


Taking Up the Gauntlet

by Heather_Night



Series: To Serve and Protect [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Needles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: “I need to give two weeks of notice.  I also need to find a place to live.”  Eric’s mind raced as he thought of all of the details he needed to iron out to accommodate his new job.  He could commute from Red Oak for a while but that would get old very fast.Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “I just might be able to help you there.  I believe you remember my son, Stiles?  He’s looking for a roommate.  I have to warn you though he’s a little…odd.”Those were the next steps in Eric’s journey into the supernatural world and they were big ones although he wouldn’t realize how big until later.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: To Serve and Protect [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/893640
Comments: 22
Kudos: 220
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Taking Up the Gauntlet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunapiero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapiero/gifts).



> This story concludes the To Serve and Protect 'verse and it's written from an original character's point of view. Relationships can change over time and who better to notice the changes then someone new on the scene? At least that was the impetus behind revisiting the 'verse.
> 
> It’s been almost two years since I finished a draft of this story and Lunapiero, awesome beta—this one's for you!—gave it a good looking over. I incorporated changes based on that feedback but I always tweak things so any mistakes are my own.

Eric sat straight in the conference room chair and stared at Sheriff Stilinski, waiting for the next interview question. The Human Resources woman sat at the head of the table but she could’ve been mentally constructing a grocery list for all the attention she seemed to be paying him.

They’d already gone over the black-and-white questions about his education and work experience and were now headed toward the subjective question that could make or break a candidate.

“Well, Morales, you seem to be doing well at Red Oak PD so why do you want to relocate to this county?” The sheriff made and held eye contact with disturbingly light-colored eyes.

Eric consoled himself with the thought that he was doing fine at Red Oak Police Department but he wanted to do better than fine; he wanted to make a difference. He’d been contemplating some sort of change in his life when he’d helped fight those hunters at the In-N-Out Burger outside of Red Oaks with Derek and Stiles. 

Supernaturals existed and hunters were out to get them.

He’d realized he wanted to make a difference in Beacon Hills. 

His eyes darted between the sheriff—the man definitely knew the score seeing as his department had been decimated in this war and his human son was firmly aligned with the shifter side—and the HR representative who stared at her nails.

He chose his words carefully. “Through contact with one of your citizens while on the job I became aware of a need in this county. I believe I have the skillset needed to make a real contribution here. I’m ready to make a change.”

The man’s stern expression morphed into a smile. He stood up and extended his hand. “When can you start?”

The blond woman packed up her papers into a briefcase and held her dainty hand out for a shake as well. “I’ll email you with a formal offer. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to contact me. Good day, gentleman.” She swished out of the conference room before Eric could say anything.

Eric’s face ached from his own smile. He did it, he got the job! The fist pump would have to wait. Business first.

“I need to give two weeks of notice. I also need to find a place to live.” Eric’s mind raced as he thought of all of the details he needed to iron out to accommodate his new job. He could commute from Red Oak for a while but that would get old very fast.

Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I just might be able to help you there. I believe you remember my son, Stiles? He’s looking for a roommate. I have to warn you though he’s a little…odd.”

Those were the next steps in Eric’s journey into the supernatural world and they were big ones although he wouldn’t realize how big until later.

Eric nodded his head. “I remember Stiles well. If he doesn’t mind, I think that would work out well. He could show me the ropes around here.”

Stilinski’s eyes twinkled. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted. You can expect a call from him shortly.”

His cell phone buzzed in his pants; at least he’d remembered to put the ringer on vibrate.

“Ah, right on time.” Stilinski moved around the table and patted his arm. “Welcome to the team.”

Eric couldn’t tell if the sheriff was happy he was joining his department or if it was because he’d most likely be roommates with his son.

He reached into his pocket and answered his phone, greeting his soon-to-be roommate. He was excited to get the answer to all of his questions and he knew Stiles would be an excellent source of information.

And hopefully a good friend as he navigated his new life.

-0-

Eric never knew what to expect from Stiles and this morning was no exception as he stepped into the kitchen to find jean-clad legs and part of a flannel and t-shirt covered torso emerging from beneath the sink. He most likely would’ve been able to identify Stiles from just his mode of dress but he could also hear the young man talking to himself.

Leaning back against the counter, Eric crossed his arms and waited to be amused.

“You don’t have to call the plumber, he says.”

“Just clean the P-trap, he says.”

“It’s really easy, loosen the slip nut on the trap arm assembly and the continuous waste tee, he says.”

Smirking, Eric wondered who had talked Stiles into trying to fix the garbage disposal. The most likely candidates were Stiles’s father or Jordan, but Eric wasn’t ruling out Derek. In the time he’d been roommates with Stiles he’d gotten to know Derek a little and the guy had a sly sense of humor and he liked to yank Stiles’s chain. If they’d been fifth graders, Eric would’ve said Derek liked pulling Stiles’s pigtails which now that he thought about it, was what boys did when they liked someone.

Huh.

Stiles gave a kick with his leg, muttering under his breath. His shirts slid up exposing skin and that’s when Eric saw them. Where Stiles’s jeans met skin, curled around the indent of his waist, were bruises.

_Bruises in the shape of fingers._

Someone had wrapped their hands around Stiles’s waist from behind and squeezed tight, according to the placement of the thumbprints.

Someone had hurt his friend.

“Stiles, who did this to you?” Eric’s voice came out much louder, and more aggressive, than he’d meant but he was concerned.

Stiles yelped from the bowels of the cupboard and his body jerked, startled.

Eric couldn’t see what happened but he heard it. A loud smack.

His friend let out an indistinct whimper and then there was another crash.

Then silence.

“Stiles?”

Shit.

Eric settled his hands around Stiles’s waist, disturbingly close to the bruising, then lifted and pulled. Stiles finally emerged from beneath the sink into the kitchen but his eyes were closed and his mouth was slack. He was breathing but that was about the only good thing Eric could say about the situation.

Kneeling down next to Stiles, Eric pushed the messy bangs aside and found a red mark. He slid his hand beneath Stiles’s head and found a goose egg. Stiles had most likely rung his bell on the pipes when he’d jolted upright and then hit the back of his head when he came back down.

Great. Eric had added to Stiles’s already impressive collection of bruises.

“What the hell is going on?”

Eric looked over his shoulder and found Derek looming, face in full scowl. He was beginning to recognize Derek’s expressions and this was one of disgruntlement.

“Stiles was trying to fix the sink and I think he concussed himself when I startled him.” Eric left out mention of the bruising around Stiles’s waist. He wanted to talk to Stiles about it first.

Derek’s expression melted into one of contrition. He practically leapt over Eric and the supine Stiles before kneeling on the other side of their unconscious friend.

Reaching out, Derek’s fingers unerringly moved toward the red mark on Stiles’s forehead despite his hair covering it. “Oh, baby, you’re hurt.”

Eric watched as slithery ropes of black climbed Derek’s fingers and twisted up his forearms, exposed from where the Henley was pushed upward. The inky lines disappeared beneath the cotton material.

Hanging out with Supernaturals was fascinating and Eric wanted to pepper Derek with questions about the pain-drain he’d just witnessed but then Derek’s words sunk in.

_Baby?_

Stiles groaned. His eyelids fluttered and then lifted.

Derek gently cupped the side of Stiles’s face. “There you are. How do you feel?”

Dazed brown eyes blinked upward and it was disconcerting to see Stiles, someone who was so fast at processing information and problem solving, blankly staring.

Stiles’s face scrunched up, maybe in thought or maybe in pain, and then he reached up and touched his forehead lightly. “Why does my head hurt?”

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I startled you and I think you bashed your head on the pipes.” Eric’s tone was repentant, he hadn’t meant to take Stiles by surprise, but he’d been worried about the bruising he’d seen.

He was _still_ worried.

Stiles’s nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes. Eric was on the verge of suggesting they take him to the ER when Stiles’s eyelids sprang open and he turned his head, wincing, and looked at Eric. “What did you mean?”

Derek continued to maintain contact with Stiles, his thumb stroking lightly along his jawline, staring at Eric with equal interest.

“What do you mean what did I mean?” Eric really didn’t want to have this conversation with Derek in the room. It was looking more and more like Derek had had a hand—literally—in Stiles’s bruising.

Stiles scowled but left off with a wince. “Help me up?”

Derek threaded an arm behind Stiles back and levered him to a seated position.

“Whoa.” Stiles clutched on to Derek’s other arm, wobbling.

Eric’s hands were out as if to brace Stiles but Derek had the situation under control. His shifter strength came in handy in all sorts of situations.

Then again shifter strength might’ve been what had left Stiles bruised up. The question was whether it was consensual touching. Stiles certainly wasn’t acting afraid of his friend. Boyfriend? Lover?

_Baby?_

Stiles prodded first at the skin on his forehead and then at the back of his head, flinching when he touched the damaged areas.

“What do you say we move to the couch?” Derek stared at Stiles, waiting for his agreement. Again, this wasn’t exactly the hallmark behavior of an abuser. 

“Yeah, sure, I’m ready to get off of the floor.” Stiles held his hands out.

Derek rose to his feet and extended his hands. Eric also stood up, standing at the ready. Stiles clutched on to one of Derek’s hands and then in a surprise move, he grabbed on to one of Eric’s.

“On three,” Eric coached, “one, two, three.” He tugged upward, Derek doing the same, and Stiles moved along.

Once he was standing upright, the color leached from Stiles’s face and he sagged. 

Derek quickly swung Stiles into his arms. “ER,” Derek fairly growled.

Dashing into the living Eric grabbed his car keys and wallet. He returned to the kitchen to find Stiles’s head perched against Derek’s shoulder, Derek nuzzling the top of his head with his chin. How had Eric missed the budding romance? He vowed to up his powers of observation.

Eric cleared his throat. “Let me get the door.”

“No, I’m okay,” Stiles stirred in Derek’s arms.

“Sure, you are,” Derek replied gruffly.

“Maybe not okay, but better. I stood up too quick, was a little dizzy. I don’t need the ER bill.” Stiles threaded his arms around Derek’s neck, hanging on loosely.

Derek looked over Stiles’s head at Eric, eyebrows raised.

Eric interpreted the look to mean _what do we do?_

Stiles hadn’t been kidding when he said fifty percent of Derek’s communication occurred through his eyebrows.

“He must be on the mend because he’s arguing with you.” Eric noted Stiles’s color had improved as well.

“Am not,” Stiles answered, tone sulky. 

Derek and Eric exchanged a smile over Stiles’s head. 

“Okay, let’s get you settled on the couch and I’ll see if Scott can swing by here and take a look.” Derek’s compromise sounded fair to Stiles.

“He’s a vet student, not a med student,” Stiles grumbled.

Derek carefully set him on the couch, arranging Stiles against the back curve of the sectional so he was upright but his legs were on the cushions.

“Would you rather I called Melissa?” Derek fished his phone out of his pocket.

Stiles groaned, pushing himself back more solidly against the cushions. “No, no I wouldn’t.” His friend crossed his arms over his chest.

Derek hit a contact and almost immediately began speaking. “Scott, could you please stop by Stiles’s and Eric’s place? Stiles was knocked out and we want to make sure his hard head is okay.” 

Eric didn’t even need shifter enhanced hearing to pick up the loud exclamation from the other side of the line. “What?!” 

Derek winced at the booming noise and then drifted toward the kitchen to continue his conversation.

Hovering over Stiles, Eric gave him a tentative smile. “Can I get you anything?”

Stiles pointed to the couch next to him. “What did you mean when you asked who did that to me, you know, before I tried bashing my brains out?” He kept his voice quiet. 

Eric flushed. “I saw the bruises. Your shirt was rucked up and the dark splotches are really noticeable.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you feel safe? Did someone hurt you without your consent?”

Pink suffused Stiles’s face. “I feel very safe. It was the heat of the moment, you know?” Stiles reached out and squeezed Eric’s forearm. “Thanks, for, um, caring.”

“You’re my friend, Stiles. If someone hurts you, I’ll take care of them.” Eric cracked his knuckles without thinking. It was a nervous tick but it also came across like a threat. Oh well; Eric would back up the threat if need be. 

“Who hurt you?” Derek approached the couch warily. Eric hadn’t heard his approach but then again, the big guy had the knack for moving quietly despite his size.

Stiles covered his face with a hand. “No one.”

Derek turned his attention on Eric. “Who hurt him?”

“No one, okay? No one hurt me.” Stiles spoke from behind his hand but he was blushing so hard Eric swore he could feel the heat coming off of him from a couple feet away.

Eric wasn’t faring much better. Especially when Derek honest-to-God growled. “Tell me.”

Sighing, Eric patted Stiles’s arm. “I saw the bruising on Stiles’s waist and became concerned.”

Derek’s threatening look changed to puzzlement, complete with eyebrows shooting up near his hairline. “What bruising?”

“Shoot me now,” Stiles murmured but he quit hiding behind his hand. “We, uh, were a little over enthusiastic the other night and you know my skin bruises easily.”

“Understatement,” Eric chimed in. The bruising was heavy enough to cause him concern and he wasn’t going to be sorry for calling attention to the situation.

Stiles punched him in the arm. “Not helping.”

“Show me, please?” Derek crouched next to Stiles and Stiles grudgingly raised his shirts.

Eric still couldn’t believe he’d missed that these two were an item. Derek especially oozed feelings with every look and touch. Stiles was a little harder to read but the glances he shot Derek from behind lowered eyelids smacked of flirting. He would’ve thought it would’ve been the opposite—Stiles wearing his heart on his sleeve and Derek more taciturn—but that would teach Eric to make assumptions about anything.

He should know better in his line of work.

As if to prove his point, Derek reached out and lightly touched the unblemished skin next to the purpling bruises, stroking his fingers gently against Stiles’s side. “Stiles, why didn’t you say anything?” The big guy lifted his face and stared at Stiles.

Eric read remorse in the set of Derek’s slumped shoulders and the line between his brows. He felt like he was intruding but he didn’t want to move and interrupt the moment between the two men.

Stiles sighed, pulling his shirts down, covering up the dark splotches. “I didn’t want you carrying on like Edward did when he marked up Bella.”

Eric sought eye contact with Derek, looking for clarification. The other man shrugged his shoulders back at him, equally mystified.

“Seriously? _Breaking Dawn Part 1? Twilight_? My pop cultural references are completely wasted on you, my two best friends. Ugh.” Stiles groused but Eric didn’t pay him too much heed.

Stiles counted Eric as a best friend. It was ridiculous but Eric hadn’t had a best friend since high school. Before he went into law enforcement. He felt the same about Stiles but he figured that was pretty normal—he hadn’t known anyone in Beacon Hills and with them sharing a house it made sense Eric would count Stiles as his closest friend—but Stiles had grown up here with Scott and Lydia and the rest of his pack.

Derek stared fondly at Stiles. “Pop culture references aside, you need to tell me if I hurt you.”

“Well it didn’t hurt at the time, I can tell you that much.” Stiles huffed back, blush in full force.

Eric began to feel like a third wheel between Derek’s searching glances and Stiles’s heated stares. He was about to excuse himself when Derek straightened to his full height. “Scott should be here soon. He said if you were trying to pick fights with us you were probably okay but he’d like to check your pupil reactions.”

Eric stood up and moved away from the couch. “I’ll finish clearing the P-trap in the kitchen.” 

“You know about P-traps?” Stiles stared up at him, disbelieving. 

Shrugging, Eric smiled. “If you’ve had a garbage disposal before then you tend to know about cleaning the trap.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Stiles harrumphed. 

Thanks to his undergrad Shakespeare class, Eric recognized _that_ cultural reference but he kept it to himself. Stiles was back to scowling and Eric didn’t want to irritate his best friend further.

_Best friend._

His smile grew wider as he moved into the kitchen. Moving to Beacon Hills was shaping up to be one of his better decisions.

-0-

Eric brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen while Scott examined Stiles in the living room. It was just a distraction to keep him from hovering but now that the smell of smoky, toasted nuts filled the air he was impatient for a cup.

Someone entered the kitchen and Eric glanced over his shoulder to see Derek. “How’s the patient?”

Derek’s eyebrows resembled the Angry Birds and someone could’ve been mistaken in thinking he was angry but Eric was pretty sure it was an indication of concern. 

Derek cleared his throat. “Scott said he’s no more damaged than usual but then he asked if he could talk to Stiles alone.”

Eric went on high alert. He stepped closer to the living room to see if he could eavesdrop but then he realized Derek could probably hear the conversation with his enhanced werewolf senses. “What are they talking about?”

For a moment Eric was embarrassed—he didn’t want to be the busybody friend—but he was both curious and concerned. He brushed aside his embarrassment. Information was power and if he was going to make it in the supernatural world of Beacon Hills he needed every advantage he could get.

Derek didn’t seem to mind his question and instead pulled two coffee mugs out of the cupboard. In a very soft voice Derek relayed, “Scott has started seeing someone new and he doesn’t want to hurt Stiles but he needs to know.”

Without asking, Derek poured coffee into both mugs, handing one to Eric. “Oh, I don’t believe this. He’s seeing Lydia.”

Oh. Eric knew from piecing together information that Scott had dated Stiles’s ex-girlfriend, Malia, and now he’d apparently moved on to another ex. Wow.

Eric didn’t have strong feelings either way about Scott, he seemed like a decent enough guy, but he lacked Stiles’s intuitive smarts and sense of humor. Eric had also gravitated toward Derek, who came across as introverted and foreboding, more than Scott but Eric had reasoned that was because he met Derek first.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Scott right now other than dating a friend’s exes could be dicey business and seemed to demonstrate a certain cluelessness on the guy’s part. 

“Is Stiles okay with that?” Eric whispered back. 

Derek shook his head no. “Not even a little bit.”

They both heard the front door close with authority. 

Grabbing another mug from the cupboard, Derek poured coffee into it and then handed it to Eric. “He’s not going to want to talk to me about how he feels, at least not right now. He might talk to you.”

Eric opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, desperately wanting to refute Derek’s words, but he knew the guy was right. The current squeeze wasn’t the best person to discuss the situation over with, not while it was so fresh.

After gulping down the hot liquid (Eric winced at the thought of the burn) Derek rinsed his coffee cup in the sink and then let himself out of the side door, exiting the kitchen.

Squaring his shoulders, Eric went back to the living room clutching two mugs of coffee to find Stiles sitting on the edge of the couch, forearms braced on his knees, hands buried in his hair. Eric sank on to the couch and set the mugs down on the coasters in front of him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered.

“No,” Stiles croaked, scrubbing at his face. Eric didn’t blame him.

Eric tried a different route. “Want some coffee?” 

Stiles seemed more interested in this offer. He lifted his head and pushed upright, making gimme hands. “Yes, please.”

Leaning over Eric plucked the mug off of the coffee table and settled it into Stiles’s hands. His friend inhaled the aroma. “Mmmm, black like my soul?”

Eric snorted. “Of course. Our souls are the same.” Stiles hadn’t been a fan of coffee when the two had met but then they discovered Stiles had only sampled either really weak coffee or coffee overloaded with creamer or sweetener or a combination of both. Eric liked his coffee strong and dark and once Stiles had tried it that way he’d been hooked.

Waiting patiently while Stiles sipped the brew, Eric grabbed his own mug. He’d ended up with the ‘Fuck’ cup; it was white and featured a humorous definition of the word. Stiles had the ‘Princess’ cup; it featured a crown and the saying _I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be a princess, seriously, someone fix this shit._

“It’s not like I want to date her, you know?” It was a good thing Eric was already used to following Stiles’s jumps in conversation although even if he hadn’t, he would’ve followed this one.

“I sort of figured that, you know, since you seem to be in a relationship with Derek.” Eric took a sip of his coffee, mainly to have something to focus on. Both he and Stiles were facing forward and it was one of the stranger conversations he’d probably had, mainly because he was more a man of action than of words.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you about that but it’s still pretty new.” Eric turned his head and narrowed his eyes, looking toward the area of Stiles’s waist marred with bruising beneath the layers of shirts. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well okay, not very new but it’s going really, really well and I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it. You’re the only one who knows.”

Again a feeling of belonging welled up deep within in Eric at the thought he was the first person to officially know about Derek-and-Stiles. He wondered fleetingly of giving them a ship name. Deriles? Halinski? 

Now was not the time to ponder such things so Eric turned to match Stiles’s body language, cradling the coffee mug in his hands, knee bent and leaning on the couch. “It’s okay, I figured it out when Derek called you _Baby_ when you were unconscious on the kitchen floor.” He gestured to the mug in Stiles’s hands. “I can understand Princess but Baby kind of suggests a more intimate relationship and for the record, I’m happy for you both.”

Stiles flashed a tentative smile, his eyes watery. “Thank you. For the record, I want Scott to be happy and if he’s happy with Lydia, great. I’d just rather not spend time around them right now. Maybe if they’d said something to me before they started dating it wouldn’t bother me so much.”

“I guess your other friend, Malia, feels the same way since I heard she took off this morning for Arizona or something.” Eric picked up quite a bit of gossip at the sheriff’s station. Jordan had a way of ferreting out all sorts of information and the sheriff was no slouch in that department either.

Stiles bit his lip. “I guess that explains it. I was a little hurt she took off without letting me know but I get it.”

Eric set his mug down. “You’re not going to take off, are you?” That idea hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d really miss Stiles if he left Beacon Hills. His best friend. His family.

“Nope. I just asked Scott to give me some space. He didn’t like it but the truth is when Scott starts seeing someone new he tends to lose himself in the relationship and ignore other stuff. And people. He’ll barely notice my absence.” Stiles’s tone was one of resignation but he wasn’t crying or having a tantrum.

It’s not like Eric had anything to compare it to but he thought maybe having an alpha check out, even temporarily, seemed like a bad idea. Maybe Stiles was exaggerating.

“I think some violence will make you feel better. How about some _Call of Duty_ to take your mind off things?” Eric went to the entertainment center and retrieved two controllers.

When no response was forthcoming, he peered over his shoulder to find Stiles squinting and rubbing his temples.

Eric set down the controllers and instead selected a DVD. He fed it into the player and cued up the movie before returning to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and Tylenol.

Stiles’s blinked his eyes open when Eric returned. “Here,” he held out the glass and then dumped the two capsules into Stiles’s hand.

“What’s this?” Stiles stared at the pills and then up at Eric.

“Tylenol. Won’t exacerbate the bleeding, if there is any, but should take the edge of that headache.” Eric folding his arms and watched as Stiles dutifully swallowed the capsules.

Eric took the glass back from Stiles and set it down on the coffee table within reach before grabbing the DVD remote.

Clearing his throat, Stiles asked, “What are we watching?”

“ _A New Hope_.” Eric settled back against the cushions. He put a pillow on the coffee table so he could set his feet on it.

“Star Wars. Just what I needed. Thanks, man.” Stiles patted him lightly in the arm before settling back more comfortably.

Eric stared at the big screen TV and realized he was smiling widely.

He might have inadvertently contributed to Stiles’s injuries but he’d also successfully comforted his friend—best friend—all before 11 a.m.

-0-

“Morales, join me in my office?” Sheriff Stilinski’s tone was even, his facial expression was pleasant, and his body language was relaxed.

Eric reviewed his work performance over the last week and couldn’t find any glaring faults with it. Maybe the sheriff was just checking in with him?

He entered the office and the sheriff motioned for him to shut the door.

A closed-door discussion didn’t exactly scream _just checking in_.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Eric always tried to maintain a respectful tone which was easy to do because he respected the hell out of the man. He not only ran a tight ship with the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department but he’d raised Stiles. His friend was great but he’d been told by many people Stiles was just starting to mellow so Eric could only imagine what a younger Stiles would’ve been like. 

Headstrong. Hyperactive. Kind of like a Border Collie that needed to be kept busy constantly to prevent the dog from chewing up the house. Only Sheriff Stilinski had a busy job and there’s no way he could’ve ridden herd on a young Stiles to the degree Eric guessed his friend would’ve required.

He looked up to find his boss smiling at him, blue eyes twinkling. “I have absolutely no problems with your job performance. You’re a solid addition to the department. One of my best hires I would say.”

Eric glowed at the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

Stilinski cleared his throat. “I wanted to know how Stiles is doing with the whole Scott-and-Lydia thing. Has he said anything to you?”

This was new territory for Eric. His best friend’s father was seeking information and he didn’t know how at liberty he could be in sharing anything. 

He took a deep breath before disclosing what he knew; he wasn’t stupid, the Sheriff would know if he lied. “Well, he’s not pleased Scott and Lydia started things up before talking to him. He also said Scott tends to pull a disappearing act when he’s starting a new relationship. Stiles told Scott he wanted to be left alone for a while and I don’t think that went over well with Scott.” Eric didn’t disclose Stiles was in a new relationship. That was on his friend to divulge.

The other man scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Stiles is right about Scott when it comes to dating someone new. I’m also sure it didn’t sit well with Scott if Stiles told him to give him space. Those two have drifted apart a bit and I don’t think Scott appreciates being the one left behind.” 

Eric had wondered about that; he’d heard about the great Scott-and-Stiles bromance and he didn’t doubt they’d be there for the other one if needed, but Scott had been pretty absent since Eric and Stiles had gotten a place together. 

“For the record, I think it’s great that you and Stiles get along so well. Stiles has always been a little wild and you balance him out nicely.” Eric almost snorted at that observation. He tried to rein in some of Stiles’s wilder ideas but more often than not, he found himself carried away by the other guy’s enthusiasm. Derek was actually the one who kept things on an even keel but Eric wasn’t going to share _that_ with his boss either.

The phone on the desk rang. “I’ve got to take this. Keep up the good work.”

Eric made his escape, closing the door behind him when the sheriff motioned for him to do so.

“What did he want?” Jordan handed him a cup of coffee. They were the only two people in the station who seemed capable of making a decent cup.

Inhaling the aroma, Eric sipped the hot liquid. “Checking up on Stiles.”

Joran snorted. “Yeah, I’m happy to split that duty with you. Stiles is pretty closed mouthed about some things and nothing drives the sheriff crazier than not knowing what his son is getting into.”

Their radios crackled simultaneously. “906N on West Court Street.”

Eric mouthed _rescue requested?_ as Jordan responded to dispatch. That could mean just about anything.

Dispatch sounded highly amused when Jordan requested more information. “We have a civilian stuck in a tree after trying to rescue a cat.”

“10-76.” Jordan also included the officer information so dispatch would know who was in route.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Eric asked.

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Greenburg.”

“I’d like to code him 507.” Eric groused.

“Public nuisance. I like it.” Jordan grinned at him.

“Why are you two standing here when you’re supposed to be in route?” Sheriff Stilinski asked from his doorway.

Eric followed Jordan toward the exit.

“Oh, and deputies? I’ll want a report in person regarding Greenburg’s latest exploits.” The sheriff couldn’t maintain his professional demeanor, guffawing loudly. He sounded just like Stiles when his friend’s funny bone was tickled and he lost his composure.

Still hustling, Eric followed Jordan outside. Rescuing civilians from trees wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he moved to Beacon Hills but Eric still loved his new job.

-0-

Eric had relaxed his guard, happy with his new job, living arrangements and friendship so when things went south it took him by surprise.

Stiles had been missing for forty-eight hours when the anonymous tip came into the station. Eric had been closest but even if he hadn’t, he would’ve broken the speed of sound to reach his friend.

The building was on one of the offshoot roads from Main Street, having been empty since the last business had folded up. The Sheriff’s Department had checked the building previously as had the pack and it had been empty.

Eric cleared the corners of the first floor before thoroughly searching the near empty space. He moved up the stairwell to the second floor, alert for an ambush, gun in his hand.

Following the same pattern as downstairs, Eric cleared the corners of the smaller space—an open living space complete with kitchenette—before he spotted the mattress on the floor.

The mattress with a body curled upon it.

The body had dark, messy hair and pale skin and Eric dropped to his knees, pushing the shoulder to get a better look—

He activated his shoulder mic. “This is Unit 3-Adam-2, I need an ambulance at 3215 Park Street, second floor.” His fingers fumbled for a pulse. It was fast and erratic. “Tell the sheriff I have found his missing person. Do you copy?”

Eric relayed other information before signing off. He wanted to feel relieved but the weak sunlight streaming through the bank of windows only illustrated the pallor of Stiles’s skin. 

Scanning the area, Eric’s stomach heaved up his throat when he spotted the drug paraphernalia. A candle, spoon and baggie were as visible as the discarded needles littering the ground.

Taking first one arm in his hands and then the other, Eric easily noted the track marks dotting Stiles’s exposed skin. 

This didn’t make sense, Stiles didn’t do drugs—

Stiles’s lips were purple tinged and his respirations had halted.

_Fuck_.

Eric grabbed the newest addition to his uniform, the Narcan nasal spray, which he’d just received training on a month ago. If Stiles hadn’t overdosed on an opioid then nothing would happen but if he had, then the medication would block the effects of the opioids and reverse the overdose.

“Please let this work,” Eric murmured as he depressed the nasal spray. 

The next step was to get Stiles into recovery position and he was already curled up on his left side, but practically in fetal position. Eric straightened his limbs a little, not liking how cool Stiles’s skin was beneath his hands, but he didn’t have a blanket or jacket on him; they were in the squad car but Eric wasn’t going to leave his friend. Instead he rubbed Stiles’s arms, urging him to wake up.

The paramedics arrived in conjunction with Jordan. His coworker emerged at the top of the stairs, pausing a moment, mouth ajar, before he moved out of the way.

The man and woman, one carrying a backboard and the other a kit, trotted over to Eric. Before they could request a status, Eric blurted, “Possible overdose. I administered Narcan. It’s been five minutes.”

The guy dropped down on the other side of the mattress, fingers seeking Stiles’s pulse in his neck. “Seems Tachy,” he told his partner before turning his attention on Eric. “Is his breathing better?”

“Well his lips aren’t purple anymore. That’s a good sign, right?” Eric asked. He heard Jordan wince in the background.

The female paramedic put a hand on his shoulder. “Let us take care of him.”

As soon as Eric moved out of the way, the woman did a quick assessment, including checking Stiles’s eyes. Eric turned away, afraid of what he might see. “Let’s hit him with another dose.”

The guy went to the kit, withdrawing a needle and vial. “Shoulder?”

“That’s easiest,” the woman agreed.

The next moments were surreal as Eric watched another needle sink into Stiles’s vulnerable skin.

Stiles hated needles and he would hate this. As much as Eric wanted him awake, he was relieved Stiles wasn’t aware of what was going on.

“Stiles!”

Sheriff Stilinski was here and he sounded gutted.

Jordan intercepted him at the top of the stairs, keeping the man back. 

“No, I need to see him!” Eric thought he’d never see his unflappable leader lose his flap—he couldn’t wait to tell Stiles that one but first his friend needed to wake up—but the sheriff struggled against Jordan’s hold.

Eric moved toward them, making sure he remained out of Stilinski’s eye line so the man could still see his son. “Possible overdose. He’s had two doses of the Narcan.”

The male paramedic chimed in. “The second dose seems to have done the trick. He’s breathing more regularly. We’ll take him to Beacon Hills Memorial if you want to meet us there.”

“I’m not leaving his side,” Stiles’s father vowed.

The woman nodded. “Just give me room to work and that’s fine.”

Eric and Jordan remained at the ready in case the sheriff tried to get in the way but he remained a respectful distance as the paramedics did their job.

Eric’s last glimpse before he left the scene was of the sheriff strapped into the jump seat, hanging on to Stiles’s hand, speaking quietly to his unconscious son who had an oxygen tube beneath his nose and IV bag hanging.

Radioing his position, he nodded to Peterson who was taking over processing the scene. 

Climbing wearily into the SUV, Eric took out his personal cell phone.

Derek answered on the first ring. “Did you find him?”

“We did. Meet us at the hospital.”

“Eric, how is he?”

“Unconscious but breathing. I’m hoping we’ll get more info at the hospital.”

“Was he…?”

Eric wasn’t certain of what Derek was asking. “Someone set it up to look like a heroin overdose.”

“Oh.” Derek’s voice was small. Eric didn’t know what the other man thought had happened but he couldn’t tell if Derek was relieved or not. “Thanks, I’ll see you there.” Derek signed off before Eric could say anything else. 

He didn’t know what to make of the situation himself. Who would kidnap Stiles and drug him? That didn’t seem like Monroe’s MO but it seemed like every shitty thing that happened to the pack came down to her. Even though things had been quiet on that front they hadn’t exactly been complacent. Well, Derek hadn’t been at least; he’d patrolled Beacon Hills making sure things stayed quiet. But if not Monroe, who?

Eric supposed it didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to get to the hospital and do what he could for Stiles and his loved ones.

The answers would come eventually, one way or another.

-0-

The head of Stiles’s bed was raised but his eyes were closed. Derek was in the chair next to the bed, bent over, hands in his hair.

Eric held out the cup of coffee and waited for Derek to lift his head. Once his friend noticed his presence, he stood up and stretched, before taking Eric’s offering. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Why don’t you stretch your legs and I’ll keep an eye on the patient?” Eric offered. Stiles had been in the hospital for forty-eight hours and as far as Eric knew, Derek hadn’t left his side.

After taking gulps of the coffee, Derek nodded. “Actually, I think I’ll run home and take a quick shower. Do you have time to stick around?”

“Of course. Take your time. I don’t work until second shift tomorrow.” He’d been scheduled to work today but Peterson, who Eric had mistakenly thought was either a bigot or just didn’t like him, had volunteered to take his shift. 

Derek’s lips twitched into a smile. “Okay, thanks. He’s a little sassy today. You’ve been warned.” Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’s forehead and before Eric could ask more questions, Derek disappeared out the door. 

Eric turned and found Stiles’s eyes were open. They were a little bloodshot but it was nice to see signs of life again in his friend. “Hey, slacker, nice of you join us.” Eric figured if Stiles was sassy then he might as well get warmed up.

Stiles’s smile was slow in coming, and it was crooked, but it was wonderful to see. “Just resting my eyes. How are you?”

“I’m finally caught up on my beauty rest. How about you?” Eric would get the full scoop from Derek later if needed as he expected Stiles to brush aside his question and tease him for his first comment.

He was completely caught off guard when Stiles’s face crumpled. “Thank you for looking for me. Finding me.”

Eric knew some medications made patients weepy but he’d never witnessed it firsthand. He settled carefully on the bed next to Stiles’s hip. “I know you’d do the same for me.” 

Stiles’s wiped at his face. Eric snagged a box of Kleenex on the tray table and offered them up. Stiles mopped up his face before leaning into his pillows. “Even blubbering exhausts me.”

“Stiles, your body’s been through a lot. Be patient with yourself.” Eric hated not knowing what to do or say.

He received an eye roll for his efforts. “Be patient…it’s like you don’t even know me. Or was that supposed to be a hospital pun?”

Eric cracked a smile. He felt relieved to be back on normal footing with his friend.

A knock on the door made Eric swivel his head. He tried to school his features into blankness but there probably was no hiding his shock. His former shift boss at Red Oak Police Department, Sgt. Jeff Jeffries, stood in the doorway, shifting his weight from leg to leg, looking uncomfortable. The last time Eric had seen the other man so discomforted was when Jeffries had tried to draw blood from Stiles for a suspected OWI and Stiles had promptly passed out.

Stiles seemed to be the common denominator when it came to Jeffries’s discomfort. Eric wasn’t sure if he should get a bag of popcorn and sit back and enjoy the show or if he should be worried.

“Hi Morales. I’m here to talk to Mr. Stilinski. I’ve been asked to conduct an investigation since he has such close ties to Beacon Hills.” Jeffries explained his presence in his no-nonsense tone but he tugged at his uniform collar, broadcasting his unease.

Eric turned back to Stiles who sat a little straighter in the bed. He shrugged. “Come on in, Sarge,” Stiles invited.

Standing up, Eric indicated the empty chair at Stiles’s bedside. He was going to stand on the other side of Stiles’s bed when his friend snagged his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, just making room. Thought I’d perch on your other side for a while.” The smile Stiles flashed him was a bit sickly but at least his friend’s color was decent. Eric had woken up with nightmares both nights since finding Stiles, dreaming of his purple lips and motionless chest.

Mentally shaking those thoughts away, Eric directed his attention to Jeffries who was setting up a digital recorder. He asked the usual questions to establish Stiles’s identity and then he launched into the tougher ones.

“I’ve been told you’re having some memory issues. Can you tell me what you last remember before waking up here?” Jeffries asked the question in such a matter-of-fact way that Eric relaxed.

“I, uh, was driving home from the grocery store. My Jeep stalled and I pulled over to the side of the road. I popped the hood, got out of the car and…,” Stiles hesitated. “I don’t know what happened until I woke up here, recovering from a heroin overdose.”

Jeffries actually snorted. “Son, I find it very hard to believe that you would ever touch a needle willingly.”

Stiles’s face turned an interesting shade of red but he didn’t dispute the comment. “I don’t really understand it. No one who knows me would believe I’d use needles and I’m failing to see what anyone would have to gain from doing this to me.”

Jeffries turned off the recorder. “I’m working on motive. Morales, why don’t we get your interview out of the way?” 

Stiles covered a yawn behind his hand. “Let’s step out into the hallway.” He squeezed Stiles’s wrist, careful of the device on the tip of his index finger. “Call if you need me.”

“Roger that.” Stiles sketched a small wave to Jeffries and then settled back more comfortably against the pillows. Eric didn’t know if Stiles even waited until he cleared the door before his eyes closed but when he chanced a glance over his shoulder, his friend already seemed to be out.

“I don’t want to leave him. Is it okay if we do this here?” Eric closed the door but left it cracked so he could hear Stiles if he called out.

“I read your report and I don’t have any follow up questions for you right now. I wanted to tell you to watch your back.” Jeffries’s words sounded suspiciously like a warning. 

Eric drew up to his full height, shoulders straightening. 

Jeffries patted his shoulder. “Don’t be getting your feathers all ruffled. I think your friend here was specifically targeted for political reasons and this isn’t going to just go away. I’m working on getting warrants to see what I can prove.”

Stepping back until he leaned against the wall, Eric folded his arms over his chest; so, he’d been right after all. “Monroe is running for sheriff, isn’t she?” At Jeffries nod, Eric sighed. “But why do this to Stiles? Does she honestly think people will believe Stiles is a drug addict or that it would impact Sheriff Stilinski’s bid for reelection even if he was?”

The sergeant combed the thinning blond hair back with the fingers of one hand. “I don’t think someone was trying to set up Stiles to make him look like a drug user. I think that was supposed to be fatal. And if Stilinski was grieving over his only child do you think he’d really give a shit about a reelection bid?”

Eric must’ve said something to his former boss but he couldn’t remember what; he was too intent on getting back to Stiles and making sure he was okay and stayed that way.

-0-

Eric stuck around when Derek returned, looking marginally refreshed. The other man—a werewolf—Jesus, his life was weird—kept skin to skin contact with Stiles almost the whole time but it was done so subtly Eric wasn’t sure someone else would’ve noticed.

Once Stiles drifted off, Eric nodded to the door, indicating his wish to speak with Derek. 

Derek frowned but relinquished his hold on Stiles’s hand, following Eric out of the door. The other closed left it cracked before leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “So what didn’t Stiles tell me about that officer’s visit?”

“Stiles actually told you everything from the interview but I talked to Jeffries afterwards and it’s not good. He thinks it was done to distract the sheriff. That it was meant to be fatal.” Eric waited for his friend’s response.

Cocking his head, Derek stared over Eric’s shoulder. He blinked hard and then refocused on Eric. “The sheriff’s election. And because Stiles is human, they cooked up an accidental overdose?” The guy actually snorted. “Like anyone would believe Stiles would willingly use a needle.” The slight twitch upwards in his lips faded quickly. “Actually, with his past history it wouldn’t sound so far-fetched if you didn’t know him.”

Eric knew some of Stiles’s history and it wasn’t all roses and sunflowers. More like roses and thorns. Losing a parent at such a young age wasn’t something a person just shrugged off. Eric would know; he’s already been an adult and the loss of his parents had left a huge hole in his life.

One he still seemed like he was trying to fill.

Clearing his throat, Eric asked. “How do we keep him safe?”

“Shit. One of us needs to be with him at all times.” Derek ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

When Derek’s face emerged from behind his hands, Eric stepped forward, staring at his bloodshot eyes. Derek’s skin was a sickly pale color and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Eric frowned, not liking what he was seeing. “Are you sick? Can you get sick? You look really, really rough.”

Derek scowled. This time it was Eric who crossed his arms, staring his friend down. Finally the other man caved, his whole demeanor shifting until Eric detected other cracks in his façade. “Oh my God, Derek, what is it?”

The sigh Derek exhaled was long. “It’s Stiles. The heroin…it…he…,” Derek broke off, shrugging helplessly. 

Eric wanted to shake him but that wasn’t going to help Derek compose himself.

With a deep breath, Derek began again. “The heroin overdose damaged both Stiles’s brain and his kidneys.”

Collapsing against the wall, Eric struggled to calm his racing heart. “But he’s sassy! And his color is better. And he was joking with me.”

Squeezing Eric’s arm, Derek leaned forward, lowering his voice further. “I overheard the doctors talking when Stiles first came in and his prognosis wasn’t good. He had so much of that shit swimming in his system they didn’t think he’d even continue breathing on his own and if he did, he’d be on dialysis for his kidneys for the rest of his life. Even though I’m no longer an alpha I had to do something. I don’t know why but it seems like I accelerate his healing or something. I don’t know how it’s working and I don’t want anyone else to know until we figure this shit out.”

His arm began to throb and Eric gently tugged away from Derek’s grasp. The other man looked shocked and Eric guessed he’d been unaware he was clinging to his arm like that. His friend muttered an apology but Eric brushed it aside. “Forget it, I’m fine. Now when you say you don’t want anyone to know, are you talking about a certain vet?” He buried the _we_ comment from Derek but he knew at some point in time he would pull it back into the light and examine it. 

He and Derek were going to provide a united front. When was the last time Eric had been a part of a close-knot unit like this? Since his parents passed away?

Derek pulled his attention back on track. “And also…”

“Scott. Gotcha.” Eric didn’t trust Deaton, primarily because Stiles and Derek didn’t, and Scott was tight with the druid so it made sense his friend wanted to keep this, whatever _this_ was, quiet.

“You’re the only one who knows.” Derek stared into Eric’s face until Eric nodded his understanding. The other man heard a noise from within the room. “He’s waking up. Try not to worry Stiles, okay?”

“You’re not going to tell him?” Eric wasn’t judging, he just wasn’t sure anyone could keep anything from Stiles for long.

Sighing again, Derek said, “We will, just not until he’s stronger. Assuming he’ll get stronger.”

Eric slapped Derek on the back. “I have nothing to back this up with but I think whatever you’re doing is working. We just need to make sure you don’t collapse.”

“Just sharing this with you is a help.” Derek still looked exhausted but his face wasn’t as tight.

Eric believed him.

Derek headed back into the room and Eric followed. He would do whatever his friends needed to see them through this crisis.

-0-

“You do know that I’m on the mend, right?” Stiles lounged on the sectional, eyebrow raised.

“Seeing as you’re out of the hospital, the thought had occurred to me.” Eric raised his own eyebrow in response.

Leaning forward, Stiles asked softly, as if someone was listening in. “Then what’s with the protection detail?”

_Shit._

Derek padded down the stairs, hair rumpled post nap. In all honesty Derek looked more exhausted than Stiles.

Stiles crossed his arms and huffed at Derek’s appearance. “Busted,” he said in an undertone.

“I guess you _are_ feeling better if your curiosity has the better of you.” Derek sank onto the cushion where Stiles’s feet had been propped, his roommate yanking them back in the nick of the time.

Eric cocked an eyebrow at Derek, waiting for him to take the lead. Best friend and roommate he may be but he was going to defer to the shifter in the room when it came to supernatural intrigue.

Derek patted Stiles’s legs. “There’s a lot going on right now.” 

The concession made Stiles raise his eybrows; Eric made a mental note to give his friend shit later about utilizing that body part as much as Derek did.

Stiles’s crossed his arms over his chest but he didn’t look defensive; he looked like he was settling in for the juicy gossip. “So, I gathered seeing as I’ve been under house arrest by the Derek-and-Eric gang.”

Eric snickered, amused by his friend’s way with words. When Derek shot him a disturbed look, Eric smoothed his face out.

Derek stared at Eric. “You want to tell him what your former boss shared with you?”

The information had been told to him in confidence but Eric didn’t think Jeffries would mind seeing as it would be helpful if Stiles knew where the threat was coming from. “Sarge—you remember Sarge, he tried to draw your blood in Red Oak?”

Stiles shuddered, leaning into the pillow at his back, grimacing.

Eric stifled his smile because this was no laughing matter. “Sarge is conducting the investigation and he’s working on getting warrants. He thinks Monroe is behind your abduction.” Left unsaid was mention of the overdose.

A distant look in Stiles’s eyes cued Eric into the wheels turning in Stiles’s brain. Eric found himself holding his breath as he waited for some sort of reaction.

Surprisingly, Stiles shrugged. “Let me guess, she’s running for sheriff and she thought this little episode would somehow influence my dad.”

Derek patted Stiles’s legs again. “Yes, but there’s more.”

Eric could hear the cheesy TV announcer hawking his wares exclaiming _Wait, there’s more_ in the back of his head. 

“More than Monroe behind my kidnapping and staged overdose attempt?” Stiles sounded puzzled.

He jumped back in since this was Jeffries theory. “Sarge thinks the overdose attempt was meant to be lethal.”

Stiles crinkled up his nose. “Then they did a shitty job of it. I mean I’m sitting here now which is proof of that.”

Silence greeted his words.

“Derek? Right?” Stiles threw his feet off the couch and sat up, leaning toward his boyfriend.

Derek swallowed loudly. “You shouldn’t have lived, not with the amount of heroin in your system.”

“So why did I live?” It was Stiles’s turn to swallow convulsively. “Is this some sort of late effect from the whole Nogitsune possession? Am I supernatural?”

Folding Stiles into his arms, Derek petted his hand up and down Stiles’s spine.

Eric shifted his weight to stand up and give the two men some privacy but Derek shot him a look, clearly telegraphing that he was to stay put.

“I’m not sure but I think it has to do with me. Or should I say, my alpha spark.” His explanation was so soft Eric had to lean forward to catch it all.

“But I thought you lost your spark when you saved Cora?” Stiles sounded lost.

Eric was barely following along; he remembered the basics of the story of how Derek gave up his spark—the essence that made him an alpha—to save his little sister. 

Derek rocked Stiles back and forth. “I thought so, too. But you were slipping away and I pretended like I still had a spark, that it could heal you, and you’re better.”

Stiles clutched Derek tightly before easing back. “No one can know.” Stiles made eye contact, confirming that Eric was on the same page.

“I’m not telling anyone about this. But until we figure things out more, one of us is going to be your shadow.” Eric waited for Stiles to argue but to his surprise, Stiles nodded his head in agreement.

Sitting up straighter, Stile’s expression turned to resolve. “None of us are safe. We should all stick together.”

Eric agreed. “As much as we can, I agree. When I’m not with you two I should be working and I’ve been partnered with Parrish so that should afford some safety.

His partner was a freaking hellhound. Or possessed by one. Eric was a little sketchy about how that worked but he felt his chances of surviving increased when on duty with the guy.

Derek nodded his agreement. “Yeah, okay. Since we don’t know what Monroe will do next it’s a smart move. “With a little luck they’ll move on since the little plan didn’t pan out.”

Eric hoped Derek was right.

-0-

Eric never saw it coming. 

He was coming off of shift and Derek and Stiles should be home any minute when he entered the house and noticed the place had been tossed. It was such a thorough job drawers had been emptied in the kitchen and the couch had been overturned.

Drawing his firearm, Eric checked the house, room by room. It was empty.

Before Eric could phone in the 10-62 he heard a commotion downstairs in the living room.

“Eric?” Stiles’s panicked voice bounced off the surfaces, finding Eric upstairs.

Eric quickly moved to the top of the stairwell, briskly heading down the steps. “Hang on, I’m coming down.” He hustled because he didn’t want Stiles to freak out. When he reached the ground floor he reached into his pocket. “I cleared the house but I need to call this—”

Something punched into Eric’s chest and he flew backward, his back hitting the wall, before he slid to the floor. 

It should’ve hurt when his tailbone collided with the hardwood floor but the only thing Eric felt was tremendous pressure in his chest.

A howl from outside distracted him, the noise so loud Eric swore the light fixtures wobbled. Or maybe that was just his wonky sight.

“No, no, this isn’t happening,” Stiles chanted. “DEREK!”

Eric wanted to remind Stiles to use his inside voice but he couldn’t summon the strength.

Something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong.

Stiles pushed something against his chest and yep, there was the pain.

“I took care of the idiots outside. I don’t think they—oh.” Derek made his entrance although Eric’s eyes were closed.

“Here, keep pressure on that. I’ll call 911.” Stiles’s voice had lost the edge of panic it’d had earlier and he sounded focused.

“Stiles, they won’t make it in time. His heart is slowing. He’s bleeding out too fast.” Derek didn’t sound happy about the news he was delivering.

“Scott! I’ll call Scott. He can give Eric the bite. This will work.” Stiles muttered.

Eric sensed movement and then warmth touched his collarbone. The pain eased. 

The werewolf pain-drain was a thing of beauty. Eric wanted to thank Derek but Stiles’s frustrated noises distracted him.

“He’s not answering. God damn it! Think.” Stiles was pacing, his footfalls loud as they slapped against the floor.

Stiles’s voice came closer. “Okay. I left a message but we need to act now. Do you think between the two of us we can maybe kick start some healing or slow the blood loss?”

“Stiles, that’s going to drain your strength. I won’t put you at risk like that.” Derek’s voice became fainter in Eric’s ears.

“Then bite him! What do you have to lose?”

“I’m not an alpha, the bite won’t take.”

“We don’t know what you can do, Derek. You’ve evolved. He’s our friend! I’m not going to just stand by and let him…”

Eric drifted off peacefully. 

-0-

Eric roused slowly.

He smelled blood.

His eyelids lifted.

The room seemed unnaturally bright.

There was warmth against his side and it wasn’t unpleasant but it was odd. Eric sat up, looked over—

“Holy crap!” 

Derek was sitting up, back against the wall, his thigh leaning heavily against Eric’s hip. He was a sickly pale color but that wasn’t the most noticeable thing about his friend; that would be the Stiles-shaped accessary draped across Derek, his legs twisted and lying across the bottom step with his head on Derek’s lap.

Both men were sleeping, or unconscious, but Eric could hear their heartbeats. One was a measured lub-dub sound and the other was…more like a fast-paced gallop. 

Eric smiled. Even their heartbeats were reflective of his friends’ personalities.

_Wait, was he really hearing their heartbeats? That wasn’t normal._

The front door opened with so much force it bounced against the wall. Eric just knew there was damage where the doorknob met drywall.

Scott skidded into the house, his eyeballs bugging out. “Are you okay?” Concern was evident in the tension of Scott’s body as well as his tone. 

The alpha werewolf paused, lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. “Who turned you?” That tone was decidedly less friendly.

Okay. That explained hearing heartbeats. He was now a werewolf.

Eric rose to his feet carefully but his legs supported him and he felt fine. Actually, he felt fantastic.

Scott’s eyes narrowed as his focus moved to Derek and Stiles.

Eric would’ve happily spent the next bit of time concentrating on the changes to his world but Scott was walking toward him and Eric’s hackles rose; his metaphorical hackles, not actual ones. He centered himself. He wasn’t really sure how this whole shifter thing worked but having peppered Derek with questions before, he felt certain that was what was going on.

Alpha red eyes flashed at Eric but before his body could act on his fight-or-flight response, Derek joined the party.

“Derek, what the hell is going on here?” Scott’s arms were folded, his lips pulled into a straight line.

Derek climbed to his feet, pulling Stiles upright with him. Stiles leaned against Derek for support and Derek kept his arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist.

Instead of verbalizing an answer, Derek’s eyes flashed red.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Eric was shot. Mortally wounded. Derek turned him.”

“But how? When did Derek become an alpha?” Scott’s face collapsed. It could’ve been with relief, or disbelief; Eric couldn’t tell.

“We think it happened when Derek healed me after the overdose thing.” Stiles sounded exhausted but he patiently answered Scott’s questions. 

Eric didn’t think Stiles or Derek seemed particularly concerned, or threatened, so he relaxed his shoulders. He also stepped back so he was just to the right and behind Derek. His alpha. Now all that alpha talk made sense to him.

“My mom said you were okay, that the overdose didn’t damage any of your organs in the long term.” Scott’s voice went up at the end of the sentence like he was maybe making it a question but he hadn’t committed fully to it.

Derek joined the conversation. “We didn’t want to broadcast what was going on. The important thing is Stiles is okay.”

“Better than okay.” Eric couldn’t see Stiles’s face from his vantage point but his tone was filled with affection.

Scott unclenched his fists. “Okay, everyone is okay and that’s…okay.”

The other man’s heart sped up a little. 

Derek turned his head and made eye contact with Eric. It seemed as though he was conveying a message. Eric interpreted the extra arched eyebrows to mean they should play it cool.

Eric kept his mouth shut.

“Thanks for coming, Scott. You should probably take off before the police arrive.” Stiles didn’t keep his mouth shut. His delivery was kind of flat. Not sarcastic but also not a show of gratitude.

The sticky moisture coating his front, and his back—and the floor—told its own story of blood loss. How very close he’d come to dying. If his life had been dependent upon Scott, Eric would’ve died. That fact didn’t seem lost on any of them.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Scott nodded. “We’ll talk later.” Promise or threat?

The other guy disappeared out the front door and Eric heard sirens in the distance, getting closer.

“How do we spin this?” Eric asked. 

“If it’s my dad or Jordan, we don’t have to spin it. Otherwise we say you got cut by glass from a bullet.” Derek shrugged, not even pretending that his story would fly. He didn’t seem overly concerned though.

“Moment of truth,” Stiles declared as they watched the front door.

Sheriff Stilinski and Jordan entered the house.

“Boy, are we happy to see you.” Stiles catapulted himself into his dad’s arms.

The dad caught his son, squeezing him tight. 

“Everyone okay?” Jordan asked but he quirked an eyebrow and smirked.

Eric met Jordan’s with his own smirk. “Ambushed by hunters, shot and turned. Just another day at the office.”

No one contradicted him which told him his guess was right; it had been hunters lying in wait.

“Except you weren’t at the office. Somebody better start talking. Now.” The sheriff’s tone brooked no argument but Eric saw the twinkle in his blue eyes. Stiles didn’t physically take after his father but they definitely shared some personality quirks.

“I’d like to sit down before I pass out.” Stiles leaned into his dad who still had an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Derek crossed the living room to take Stiles by the hand, leading through the detritus spread across the house. He righted the couch so his boyfriend had something to sit on. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“You’re contaminating my crime scene.” Sheriff Stilinski said to Derek’s disappearing back. He turned his full attention back to Eric. “So, a werewolf?”

Radios crackled and Sheriff Stilinski keyed his shoulder mic. “Code Four.” This indicated the responding officers didn’t need back up.

Derek returned with a carton of orange juice. He handed it to Stiles who fumbled as he tipped the opening to his lips. Derek was there to steady his hand.

“What’s wrong with using a glass? Don’t tell me Stiles has infected you, too.” The sheriff folded his arms. 

Shrugging, Derek looked wistfully into the kitchen. “I, ah, couldn’t find any glasses.”

Stiles sputtered. “They broke our glasses? What about my coffee cup collection?”

“Things can be replaced but you and Eric can’t.” Derek rubbed a hand up and down Stiles’s back but Eric felt the warmth of his words.

Stiles’s dad looked pained as he took in the destruction but quickly refocused on the job at hand. “We might as well get comfortable, everybody. Let’s get this sorted out quickly before someone else stops by.”

Eric longed to head outside and explore but Derek flashed his eyes, the red impossible to ignore, and he moved to comply with the unspoken request.

“Um, you’d better go get cleaned up, Eric.” Stiles gestured to Eric’s sodden clothing.

He changed course, heading upstairs. 

Eric wondered if werewolves liked showers or not. He was about to find out.

-0-

Eric glanced towards the house. He could hear Stiles rattling around in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess, occasionally swearing beneath his breath.

“Stiles is always going to be a distraction but you’re going to have to learn how to concentrate your senses despite—,” Derek paused, cringing as a particularly loud bang followed by a yelp sounded from within the house. “Stiles?”

His friend’s voice warbled back. “I’m fine! Keep doing your thing, Yoda.”

Eric smirked at the pained expression on Derek’s face. He knew opposites attracted each other all of the time but it felt like someone, somewhere, had a sense of humor when they put those two together.

Derek cleared his throat. “You need to be able to control your shift. If something,” again there was a loud crash from within the house but this time Derek just rolled his eyes and kept on speaking, “startles you, you need to be able to control your response. More and more people are aware that we exist but we don’t want to call attention to it.”

“Okay, that makes sense. What do you want me to do?” Eric stared at this fingertips as his claws—he had claws!—contracted and then shot back out, curling and gnarly. There was a stinging sensation but it wasn’t outright pain.

“We’re going to do some exercises that will help you learn and keep control. My family used a triskelion disk to teach betas control on the full moon. It was pretty much a meditation of the three types of werewolf—alpha, beta and omega. Have you ever done meditation before?” Derek’s arms were crossed but he exuded never ending patience. 

“I once dated a girl who was a Buddhist? I’ve also been to a few yoga classes. Does that count?” Eric’s attention was back on his hands. Hair sporadically sprouted, covering his limbs, and then receded.

Derek barked a laugh. “Not really. But at least you’re familiar with the concept of meditation. I’m going to have you close your eyes. What do you smell?”

Eric squeezed his eyes closed and tried to relax. He took a deep breath. “Cherry blossoms?” He wrinkled his nose as he picked up something metallic. “And blood?”

“Excellent. Now with your eyes still closed, I want you to concentrate on transforming just your claws. When I say out, let them out. When I say in, sheath them. Ready?” Derek’s voice was mellow. It was also higher than Eric’s.

“Sonnuvabitch.” Stiles was still making a ruckus in the house and Eric smiled faintly. Stiles’s voice was also deeper than Derek’s. Despite that, it was easy to listen to and it actually helped Eric concentrate more easily.

“Out.”

Eric had been so busy comparing voice pitches that he’d gotten distracted but as soon as Derek made the command, he complied without thought.

“In.”

And so it went. If Eric over-thought what was happening it was harder to follow Derek’s instructions but when he just reacted, it fell into place.

The back door creaked open and Stiles—Eric recognized his footfalls, one foot hitting the concrete step heavier than the other—joined them. Before he could say anything, a loud rumble filled the air.

“Um, sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Eric’s back was still to Stiles but he scented the air and picked up…embarrassment? It was lightly acrid and a bit peppery but he thought that’s the emotion he smelled. 

And humor. “I’m guessing you need food.” Derek’s voice was fond and Eric could hear the smile in his voice even though his eyes were still closed.

“Okay, that was a solid first effort, I say Eric has earned a dinner break,” Derek said and Eric’s chest swelled at the praise. 

He opened his eyes and found Derek smiling at him. Just that simple smile took years off his friend’s appearance. Or should that be alpha? Could you be a friend at the same time you were a beta to that alpha?

No wonder he and Stiles got along so well. Eric was filled with almost as many questions as his best friend.

“I think we ought to sleep at the loft tonight. Do you guys want to grab some stuff? We can pick up some steaks at the store on the way over and I’ll broil them.” Derek was still smiling and Eric found himself smiling back.

Stiles had joined them in the grass. “Your wolf is showing,” he elbowed Eric. 

Eric went to elbow him back but Derek intercepted him. “Gently, now.”

Oh. 

Stiles rolled his eyes but shrugged. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the extra human strength at your disposal. You’re already lightyears ahead of both Scotty and Liam when they were first turned.”

Derek snorted. “Teens survive the change more easily but their control is already shaky due to their age. You don’t have hormones working against you, you’re doing great. Now chop, chop. It sounds like Stiles’s stomach is eating its lining.”

“Gross.” Eric’s cheeks were beginning to ache from all of the smiling.

Once again it hit Eric how strong Stiles was, both mentally and physically. He ran with supernatural creatures and he never flinched. In fact it was the opposite; he threw himself into whatever was happening without much thought to life or limb. 

Fate had thrown down the gauntlet and Stiles had picked it up; with such a strong example Eric felt he could do no less. He linked arms with Stiles in a show of solidarity as they reentered the house to get their stuff. 

Eric averted his eyes as he approached the bottom of the stairwell where he’d almost bled out. The smell of iron was almost overwhelming despite the chemicals Stiles had used to clean up the mess. The front yard was just as bad—that was the sight of Derek’s stand against Monroe’s trusted deputies.

They’d lost and now Monroe had retreated.

“Hey, we’ll get through it. One step at a time.” Stiles grabbed Eric’s hand and towed him up the stairs.

Eric wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in this house anymore but he figured he’d go wherever Stiles, and Derek, went.

-0-

Stiles picked his way gingerly through the crowded living room, Derek’s proprietary hand on Stiles back, until Stiles eased himself down onto a kitchen chair. Eric stood shoulder to shoulder with his alpha who stood protectively behind Stiles.

Eric enjoyed living in the new Hale House but he was going to have to relocate to a room farther away from the master bedroom. Derek and Stiles went at it like bunnies and it wasn’t conducive to sleep. He didn’t begrudge the two their happiness but he very much wished he could bleach the memories of them having sex out of his brain.

_That’s it, Baby. You’re taking them so well._

_I want…I want…mmm_

Crinkling his nose at the memory, Eric stared around. He recognized all of the players…except for, hello, the beauty making her way across the floor.

“Stiles!” She squealed, hugging the man in question. She moved around the chair and launched herself into his alpha’s arms. “Derek!”

Stiles flanked Eric’s other side as Derek made the introductions. “Eric, I’d like you to meet Kira Yukimura. Kira, please meet Eric Morales.”

“So you’re the new beta that has Scott all up in arms,” Kira blurted as she put her hand out. Her face turned a pretty pink. “Um, I probably wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Derek and Stiles both laughed but the rest of the world faded as Eric grasped Kira’s dainty hand and he jolted. Hard.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.” Kira tried to retrieve her hand but Eric didn’t let it go.

“I’m fine. Really.” Eric tuned back in to find Stiles smirking at him, Derek staring wide eyed, and Kira’s blush deepening.

“Kira here is a Thunder Kitsune. She went to school with us but she’s been off practicing her kitsune craft for a while.” Stiles mentioned this casually while he squeezed Eric’s shoulder and Eric realized he needed to let go of Kira’s hand. 

Scott called for everyone’s attention and Eric gave it, and relinquished Kira’s hand, both grudgingly.

“I know it’s going to be strange having two alphas in the same territory but we’re used to working together so this transition should go pretty smoothly.” Scott stood directly across from Derek but his attention remained focused on Lydia, Liam, Mason and Corey.

A few more logistics were discussed and then Eric was able to turn his attention back to the lovely Kira.

Kira stared up from beneath lowered lids at Eric, shy smile on her face. 

Stiles cleared his throat. “Kira, would you like to join us for dinner? We were going to go to—”

“That Italian restaurant on Main Street,” Eric interrupted Stiles’s offer. “I’d love it if you would join us.” He appreciated Stiles finessing things but Eric wanted his first outing with Kira to be something more upscale than Mac’s Pizza Shack. 

“Oh, I love Italian! Yes, please.” Kira beamed at Eric.

“Kira, do you need to tell Scott you’re joining us?” Derek at least was aware of the politics of two alphas sharing a territory and he seemed not to want to rock Scott’s boat at this juncture. Eric had no doubt that Derek would rock the boat if needed though. Derek was turning out to be a good leader.

“Actually, I’m not in Scott’s pack. I was kind of hoping maybe I could join yours, Derek?” Kira’s voice was soft but she drew herself up, projecting confidence.

Derek’s smile was very toothy, tension fading from his face. Even his eyebrows seemed to relax. “I think we can work something out.”

Kira put her dainty hand in Eric’s and they followed Derek and Stiles out of the house, ignoring the other people around them.

Eric had never been so attracted to another person so quickly. He’d always liked thunder, come to think of it.

Once again Eric thanked his lucky stars for taking a chance on Beacon Hills—the job was challenging but he adored his boss and co-worker, lived in an amazing house with his two best friends and was now a freaking werewolf.

Meeting this very intriguing lady was just the cherry on top.

He was home.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It was fun to revisit these characters again.


End file.
